Part 41

“If you like,” he said, “I'll tear this up. I don't want to lend it, if you don't want me to; but I thought--I thought--” It was for her alone he had been going to lend this money!

Phyllis murmured through her hair:

“Yes! You thought that I--that's what's so hateful!”

Apprehension pierced his mind.

“Oh! I never--I swear I never--”

“Yes, you did; you thought I wanted you to lend it.”

She jumped up, and brushed past him into the window.

So she thought she was being used as a decoy! That was awful--especially since it was true. He knew well enough that Mrs. Larne was working his admiration for her daughter for all that it was worth. And he said with simple fervour:

“What rot!” It produced no effect, and at his wits' end, he almost shouted: “Look, Phyllis! If you don't want me to--here goes!” Phyllis turned. Tearing the envelope across he threw the bits into the fire. “There it is,” he said.

Her eyes grew round; she said in an awed voice: “Oh!”

In a sort of agony of honesty he said:

“It was only a cheque. Now you've got your way.”

Staring at the fire she answered slowly:

“I expect you'd better go before mother comes.”

Bob Pillin's mouth fell afar; he secretly agreed, but the idea of sacrificing a moment alone with her was intolerable, and he said hardily:

“No, I shall stick it!”

Phyllis sneezed.

“My hair isn't a bit dry,” and she sat down on the fender with her back to the fire.

A certain spirituality had come into Bob Pillin's face. If only he could get that wheeze off: “Phyllis is my only joy!” or even: “Phyllis--do you--won't you--mayn't I?” But nothing came--nothing.

And suddenly she said:

“Oh! don't breathe so loud; it's awful!”

“Breathe? I wasn't!”

“You were; just like Carmen when she's dreaming.”

He had walked three steps towards the door, before he thought: 'What does it matter? I can stand anything from her; and walked the three steps back again.

She said softly:

“Poor young man!”

He answered gloomily:

“I suppose you realise that this may be the last time you'll see me?”